


An Unexpected Gift, or, Why must I be a teenager in love?

by misereremolly



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Fingerfucking, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Memory Loss, Mushiness, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Showers, mention of past EG/OMC, mention of past JB/multiple OFC and OMC, virgin!Garak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misereremolly/pseuds/misereremolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident turns Garak and Bashir into eighteen year olds who can't remember anything beyond that age. So they get to know each other. Takes place sometime after “Dr. Bashir, I Presume?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm so afraid that we'll have to part

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit sex between two eagerly consenting eighteen year olds (one of whom is fairly experienced – but his past activity is only mentioned, not described.). 
> 
> Regarding Garak’s background: I’m riffing off of Andrew Robinson’s _A Stitch in Time_ ; this is Garak before he starts his training, when Mila and Tolan are still unequivocally “Mother” and “Father” and Tain is “Uncle Enabran,” and Garak has no reason to expect anything other than a life serving Cardassia as a gardener.
> 
> This fic makes a couple of deliberate homages to other fics in the fandom:
> 
> 1\. The mystery of Garak’s true age in Chapter 1 is a little reference to Lady Drace’s [“Natural Decline (Or Lack Thereof)”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/488036), which is a hot and sweet fic that features the boys when they’re older. One of my all-time favorites. 
> 
> 2\. In Chapter 3, Julian’s brief moment of insecurity about certain parts of his body is a little homage to airandangels’s sexy and witty [To the Island](http://archiveofourown.org/works/212517) – if you haven’t read it, do yourself a favor and check it out. 
> 
> I swear I love the boys just as they are; I don’t know why I keep writing fics that mess with their ages. 
> 
> Oh, and sorry for the flimsy setup that is basically stolen from TNG’s “Rascals.” I just needed an excuse for them to be horny teenagers.
> 
> Chapter titles taken, of course, from the lyrics to "Teenager in Love" by Dion and the Belmonts.

Julian Bashir opened his eyes. It was a move he regretted at once. Bright white light from above stabbed into his vision like thousands of tiny gleaming needles, making his head throb and his stomach turn. He shut his eyes to regroup, but his faint sense of unease escalated to near panic as he remembered that in his experience bright white lights from above usually meant doctors, or surgery, and since he had no recent memory of going to a doctor, and the last time he woke up under surgical lights without knowing where he was, those ten years ago – 

_Fuck!_

Heart slamming against his ribs, he sat bolt upright and looked around. A Bajoran woman in some sort of uniform – a nurse? – came rushing toward him, holding out her hands like she would comfort him. That was all well and good, nurses were always kind to him and he sort of appreciated getting attention from the pretty ones but right now he wouldn’t care if the hottest nurse in the whole universe was here, because his parents had no right -- he was an adult and they had _no fucking right_ to do this to him again –

The nurse turned and called over her shoulder. “Captain!”

An imposing man in a uniform approached, talking to an older woman with salt and pepper hair. Their insignia looked Starfleet, but their uniforms were strange, unlike any he’d ever seen before…

Were they some sort of Starfleet secret police? Had he been found out? He gripped his knees with sweaty palms and realized he was wearing a surgical gown. Were they going to reverse what had been done to him? His insides melted into quivering jelly. He hated what his parents had done, but the thought of it being taken away from him now was an even more horrifying thought. Hadn’t he been messed with enough?

“Who are you?” he shouted, considering it a small miracle that his voice wasn’t shaking, because he sure was. “Where am I?” 

“Doctor Bashir – Julian. Calm down.”

That brought him up short. Doctor? What the hell was this? 

_Oh my god._ Maybe this was it. He was losing it, following down the same path as many others who were like him. He was finally losing his mind. “What’s going on?” 

A soft groan drew the Captain’s attention to a biobed off to Julian’s right. He followed the Captain’s gaze and saw a Cardassian boy about his age sitting up slowly, a hand pressed to his ridged forehead. 

“Mister Garak, glad you’re awake.” 

The other boy – Garak? – snapped his head up, eyes widening as he took in his surroundings. He gasped and opened his mouth to speak but the Captain held up his hands to cut him off. “It’s alright, you’re not in any danger. Neither one of you is. Just hold on -- now that you’re both awake, I’ll explain everything.”

Garak turned to look right at him with this little lost and bewildered expression, and when their gazes locked Julian was staggered by a warm burst of feeling in his chest. Unexplainable feeling. For this Cardassian boy. 

It was strange, but for some reason it seemed so familiar to him, somehow, to look at this person and to feel this way. Which made no sense. He was sure that he didn’t know this Garak – surely he would have remembered meeting a Cardassian? -- but nevertheless there was some sort of a connection here, a major connection, a pull so magnetic that he felt like he’d just been trundled up into a giddy ball of excitement and set rolling down the side of a steep mountain. 

And even weirder was that, even though he prided himself on his, well, _affinity_ for all sorts of humanoids, whenever he set off in sparks like this it was more often than not over girls, and he’d never even _met_ a Cardassian in person until now. All the pictures he’d ever seen of Cardassians usually framed them in a vaguely sinister way, but Garak had a rather pleasant round face and really amazing blue eyes; he’d never really thought that a boy could have such pretty eyes...

The Starfleet man cleared his throat, and Julian came back to himself with an embarrassed little jolt. 

“I’m Captain Benjamin Sisko,” the man said with an air of kindly authority. He gestured to the woman next to him. “This is Doctor Pham. You’re on the Federation outpost Deep Space Nine, and you are both residents here.” 

Residents? Julian stole a glance at Garak, who had adopted a hard expression of suspicion that was doing a pretty good job of masking how frightened he undoubtedly was. His own face probably looked a lot like that. 

“There’s been an accident. The two of you were on a shuttle en route to the station, and you were forced off-course into the wormhole. We believe that you passed through an energy anomaly that has de-aged you.”

Julian digested this. “De-aged?” 

“That’s right. You’re actually a grown man in your early thirties, Julian, but you’ve been de-aged into a young adult. About eighteen years old, according to our scans. Garak, you’re –” Sisko paused to think, and he looked a little bemused. “Actually, I have no idea old you really are.” He turned to Pham, who shrugged. Sisko chuckled. “Well, somewhere in early middle age, I suppose. But right now you appear to be at an age roughly equivalent to Julian’s.” 

Sisko turned back to face him, serious again. “Julian, what’s the last thing you remember?”

The situation was still confusing as all hell, but Julian started to relax just a tiny bit because it was starting to look as if the outing of his genetic status actually wasn’t the order of the day. He thought back. “I – I don’t know. Studying for finals? I just got accepted to Starfleet medical…I don’t have any memory of this station at all – you say I live here? What do I do?”

The Captain and Doctor Pham exchanged looks as though something had just been confirmed. A little prickle of irritation shot up Julian’s spine as Sisko ignored his question and turned to the Cardassian. “Mister Garak, do you remember anything about living on this station?”

Garak hesitated, sliding a quick glance Julian’s way. “No, I don’t,” he answered slowly, as though the words were being dragged out of him. “I remember being on Cardassia. Finishing my last year of school.” 

An upwelling of compassion shunted Julian’s fear and annoyance firmly to the side. They may not be getting a lot of answers, but whatever was going on at least he was among his own kind, with people from Starfleet. How would he be feeling if he’d woken up surrounded by Cardassians? 

Sisko nodded. “Our scans show that you have memory engrams consistent with your true ages, but those memories beyond your current ages have been blocked.” 

Blocked memories did not sound like a good thing at all, but Julian was surprised by how comforted he was by the fond, almost paternal expression Sisko turned to him. “Julian, to answer your previous question, you are the station’s chief medical officer.” 

“Oh.” Now there was a revelation. He blinked and smiled a little bit at the cautious pride he felt from this news. Good to know he’d made it through medical school, at least. But what was he doing out in the middle of nowhere? Was it something he had chosen, or had they found out about him and sent him out to the edges of Federation space? And what had he been doing traveling on a shuttle with a Cardassian? 

Sisko continued on. “Mister Garak, you own a tailor’s shop on the station’s Promenade.” Garak took this in silently, nodding slowly at this bit of information. 

Julian watched the subtle flexing motion of Garak’s neck scales and suddenly needed to know --

“Captain,” he burst out, “do Garak and I know each other?”

His face blossomed with heat as he felt Garak’s eyes burning into the side of his head, but he resolutely held Sisko’s gaze, willing a straight, simple answer.

Sisko gave him a short, lopsided smile. “Yes. Yes, you do. In fact, I’d say that the two of you are good friends.”

Friends. Well, that was alright. At least he hadn’t been Garak’s jailer or something like that. Good friends, even. He glanced at Garak and wondered at the little tug of disappointment in his stomach.

“Now listen carefully,” Sisko continued, businesslike. “We’re working on a solution right now. Fortunately, our station’s engineer Chief O’Brien has had some experience with this kind of phenomenon. But it’ll take him and our science officer Commander Dax several more hours to adapt the station’s technology. But don’t worry,” Sisko assured, his grin so certain that Julian was calmed in spite of himself. Was there a class that command officers had to take in Starfleet – Speeches and Smiles 101: How to Inspire Confidence? “We will get you both back to normal very soon. In the meantime we’ll set you up in some guest quarters while you wait.” 

Julian frowned. “Not our own quarters?”

“I’m afraid not. We don’t want to disrupt your memory block. We aren’t sure how your brains will react and we’d rather not risk it – O’Brien and Dax assure me that your memories will be restored when you’re physically returned to normal.” 

He was unhappy about this, and Garak looked even unhappier, but what could they do? 

Sisko seemed to pick up on their disgruntlement. “I know this situation must be distressing for you both. I promise we’ll set everything right very soon. Just try to take it easy, and we’ll call you in a couple of hours.” He turned and beckoned forth a tall man with a smoothed-out face who was accompanied by a young woman in a Starfleet uniform. “Constable Odo here will take you to your rooms as soon as you’re ready. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

It wasn’t really a question; Sisko turned, the door swished open, and he was gone. 

Doctor Pham stepped forward and spoke to them kindly. “You’re all done here for now. Nurse Kaela will bring you some clothes to change into, and then I can go over your scans with you in more detail before you go.” 

Looking at the scans sounded like a good plan, but all in all Julian was eager to be getting away from the infirmary and its bright clinical lights. He hopped off the bed when the cute nurse approached with a folded grey and green jumpsuit and a smile. It was a very nice smile, but his attention was drawn over to Garak. 

For his part, the Cardassian looked positively offended by his identical jumpsuit. “Excuse me, I…I thank you for your trouble, but I simply cannot wear this! It’s - it’s indecent!”

Julian wasn’t sure about _indecent,_ exactly, but it did look to be skintight and it was kind of ugly; he knew he didn’t have an eye for this sort of thing, so he figured that it must be especially hideous. The nurse seemed a little affronted, but Constable Odo harrumphed a short, raspy chuckle and suggested they let Garak replicate something for himself. Garak looked a little taken aback but nodded his appreciation, and he quickly dialed up a simple black tunic and matching trousers that Julian thought looked a hell of a lot better than the alternative. 

He cleared his throat and flashed his most winning smile at Garak. “Hey, I’ll take a set of those too.”


	2. Each night I ask the stars up above

Garak followed Constable Odo through the hallways of Deep Space Nine, and he had the distinct impression that they were purposefully being led through the more isolated parts of the station. It made him very uneasy, and his discomfort only increased when he recognized the station’s architecture as quintessentially Cardassian in style but kept seeing Humans and Bajorans and all sorts of other races _except_ Cardassians. 

He didn’t trust Starfleet and he didn’t trust Captain Sisko. But for now he really had no choice but to believe what he’d been told, outrageous though it was. It was in Sisko’s favor that the few people they’d come across in their walk had given both him and the Human boy very strange looks that seemed to have a note of puzzled recognition. Perhaps he really did belong here. That didn’t make him any less fearful, though, and he had so many questions. 

There was a laugh from behind him, a rippling light tenor followed by a hearty alto chuckle. Julian had fallen back a little bit to chat up the Starfleet security officer, a young Human woman who appeared to be very amused by the conversation. Another laugh from the woman grated over his nerves like a vole’s teeth on metal. He was a little nettled that Julian wasn’t using this time to speak with him; here was their chance to see if they could sort out what had happened, and it was being wasted. 

But no, there was more to it than that. What really bothered Garak was the troubling fact that his irritation was caused in part by his own foolishness: a hopeful projection borne of this inexplicable but insistent pull he was feeling toward the other boy. 

Attracted to an offworlder. Garak sighed. It was a state of being beyond his wildest imaginings, but today it had become a reality. Whether it was a false feeling of affinity because of the simple reason that they were apparently in this strange situation together, he couldn’t be certain. The Human had certainly seemed very interested in him back in the infirmary, but perhaps he’d misread Julian’s attention. 

Garak looked up at Odo, who marched ahead of them with a purposeful step. There was no way he was going to talk to Sisko or Pham or any of the other Starfleet personnel, but Constable Odo seemed different, and not only because he wasn’t wearing a Starfleet uniform. There was this sober dutifulness about him that suggested that he was unapologetically forthright, the kind of man who would have no compunction about voicing an unpopular opinion, about being different. Maybe he could get a few straight answers out of him. 

Lengthening his stride, Garak came up alongside Odo. “Constable Odo,” he said in his most conversational voice, hoping it didn’t sound too forced, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite like you. And you wear a Bajoran uniform, but you are clearly not a Bajoran.”

Odo didn’t look down or break his stride. “I’m a changeling,” he replied. 

Garak absorbed this. He’d read about changelings of course, but to actually encounter one was beyond anything he’d ever expected. “Are there any other changelings on Deep Space Nine?

“No.” 

Garak waited a moment, but when it was clear that nothing more was forthcoming he gathered the courage to ask one of the foremost questions on his mind. 

“Constable, are there other Cardassians on the station?”

Odo hesitated. “No. You’re the only one.”

“I see,” Garak murmured, but inside he nearly despaired. He was alone, then.

They walked along in silence for a moment, his thoughts unfocused and bleak, and he was startled when Odo spoke up again. “Actually, you and I have a lot in common.”

Now that was interesting. “Are we friends?”

“Well, yes,” Odo grumbled awkwardly. “In a manner of speaking.”

In a manner of speaking. Garak could read between the gruffly spoken lines on that one well enough, but a bit of cautious distrust between friends was a common enough state of being on Cardassia. It was somewhat consoling that the head of station security seemed to like him, at least a little bit. “Captain Sisko said that I am friends with Julian,” he said quietly. “Is that in a manner of speaking as well?”

“You and Doctor Bashir spend a lot of time together. He was your first friend on this station.”

They came to a halt in front of a row of rooms in a hallway. Though the corridor was deserted the walls suddenly felt heavy and the air oppressive, and Garak finally voiced his fear through a paper-dry throat: “Am I a prisoner?” 

Odo huffed and shook his head. “No, you’re not,” he replied softly, and then raised his voice to address the Human as well. “You aren’t to receive any visitors. Captain Sisko strongly suggests that you stay in your rooms for your own safety. It’s usually a good idea to follow the Captain’s suggestions.”

Not the most reassuring set of instructions, but Garak nodded his understanding. Odo gestured him toward a door and he walked forward as indicated, sliding his glance over to Julian as he went. The other boy was watching him with an expression of mixed dismay and longing. 

Garak nearly rolled his eyes; had Julian really expected that they would be allowed to wait out the time together? Oh, Julian was terribly good-looking indeed – even without ridges that long neck of his was a thing of beauty -- but apparently he wasn’t very bright. Wasn’t he supposed to become a doctor? Garak had assumed that a male doctor would have to be especially gifted, but maybe he was wrong. With a little flick of his shoulders Garak turned away and walked through the door.

The room was spare but comfortable. A desk and computer console greedily ate up the wall to his left, and there was a wide couch facing a large, circular window. He could see a bed in the next room over, and a door that probably led to a bathroom. Garak went straight to the replicator and ordered a rokassa juice. It didn’t taste quite right, but even so: the flavor was a small comfort for which he was very grateful. He settled down at the computer console and tried to familiarize himself with the strange hybrid Federation-Cardassian interface.

Everything about this situation frightened him. Nothing made any sense. Even accepting what Sisko had said, what was he doing on a space station with no other Cardassians, so far away from home? And tailoring, of all things? He knew nothing about fashion, aside from what he liked for himself. It was work still suited to his rank in the service class, but he couldn’t fathom what could have changed so much that he hadn’t followed in Father’s footsteps and become a groundskeeper. Could it have something to do with Uncle Enabran? Were Father and Mother even still alive? He couldn’t imagine that they would have been happy about him leaving Cardassia. 

The computer offered him a list of books. He was darkly amused to see _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_ in the library and wondered if he’d been the one to put it there. There was an extensive music library as well, and he selected a collection of folk songs by Nokel. 

The familiar, woody resonance of a plucked _kitareth_ filtered gently into the room, and Nokel’s rough, unaffected voice rang out clear and true. Garak sighed, cradling his drink and just listening for a moment before turning his attention back to the computer.

Just about everything else was blocked. He’d tried to break into his own files first, then Julian’s. When that didn’t work he spent the next hour trying to break in to anything – the public Starfleet database, personal files, news services – but met with very little success. Eventually a message from Constable Odo popped up on the screen – _Cut it out, Garak!_ – and he was forced to admit defeat.

Annoyed, he found his way back to a message board he’d managed to crack. It had something to do with the station’s bar, and the longest thread was some sort of debate over the structural merits of the station’s dabo wheels and the structural merits of the young ladies who ran them. He scrambled up the board beyond recognition, routing the history of changes through one of the board’s most prolific users – Morn469 -- and sat back with a smirk. That ought to take a good long time for them to straighten out. 

Garak shut down the console and wandered about the room, staving off boredom by playing the little “game” of recall Uncle Enabran had taught him, taking careful note of everything seen and unseen, committing colors, textures, sounds, scents all to memory and preparing his mind to be tested on the smallest detail. 

He was sitting on the edge of the window, considering the pattern of stars and wondering which little pinpoint of light was Cardassia when his door started to make a strange whirring sound. Curious, he hopped off the ledge and moved closer, stopping when he realized it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get too close. Maybe he should call Constable Odo?

The door opened a sliver, and someone was slipping through – long, slender fingers, a shock of unruly dark hair, warm brown skin and eyes -- 

“Julian?”

The Human smiled broadly, and his stomach made an absurd little flip.

“Hey Garak.”


	3. Why must I be a teenager in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the chapter where I earn that NC-17 rating...

Julian hopped on one leg as he shimmed his other foot through the crack in the door, grateful for the first time in his life for his lanky build but also fully aware of how ridiculous he must look. Once he had both feet solidly on the ground he made a deliberate show of suavity, smoothing down his tunic with a little sigh of triumph. 

Garak was sputtering with outrage. “You – you’re not supposed to be here!”

Julian shrugged. He was glad to see Garak, much more than he had expected to be, but he wanted to play it cool to make up for his ungraceful entrance. “I was bored. The computer in my room was pretty much locked out.” 

“And so you break into my room? Were Constable Odo’s instructions not clear enough for you?”

“They’re not going to make a big deal out of it. And even if they did, what’s the worst they could do? Tell me to go back and ask me not to do it again?”

But this only seemed to upset Garak even more. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t share your confidence in these people and their intentions. They didn’t exactly give me much to go on. Or perhaps I missed something? Some social cue that only Humans understand?”

Julian frowned at the accusation. “What are you talking about? You heard them – they’re trying to help us get back to how we’re supposed to be.” 

“Oh yes, back to being a middle-aged tailor, and a doctor on a remote station. Back to how we’re supposed to be according to _them_.”

“Hey, you saw the scans that matched us up to the DNA on file, too!” Julian winced at his raised voice. So much for playing it cool. “Why would they lie about that? They’re Starfleet, Garak! They’re going to do the right thing.”

Garak’s agitation suddenly deflated, his shoulders slumping. “I suppose I can’t blame you for thinking as you do,” he said bitterly. “You’re blinded and complacent from the privilege of being around your own kind.” 

Right away the sting of Garak’s words was swept away by a swell of compassion, just as Julian had felt back in the infirmary. “Garak, they’re not going to hurt you –”

“You don’t know that!”

“They’re treating us exactly the same. Besides, I wouldn’t let them do anything to you!”

It was out of his stupid mouth before he could consider how difficult it would be to keep that promise. 

“Oh?” Garak’s tone was mocking. “And how would you manage that, exactly?”

Julian held his ground. “I don’t know. But I’d figure something out.” 

“Why?”

Disbelief was plain on Garak’s face, in his eyes, and Julian held Garak’s challenging stare. Maybe they didn’t know each other right now, but Julian felt something for Garak, and that had to count for something. But he wasn’t about to say that point blank in so many words, at least not so long as Garak looked about ten seconds away from punching him in the nose. So he simply replied: “Because you’re my friend.” 

“So they said,” Garak retorted, still defensive. Yet Julian thought he saw his shoulders relax just a tiny bit.

“Yes. So they said.” 

Garak narrowed his eyes, his lips parting as he tilted his head up, kind of like a little snake testing the air. Were all Cardassians so cute when they were suspicious? 

_Did I seriously just think that?_

“Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble with Sisko? Since you’re supposedly in Starfleet?”

Julian shrugged again. Maybe he was worried a little bit, but that had been overridden by this irresistible desire to visit Garak. He’d partly wanted to see if they could somehow piece together what had happened to them. To see whether talking through it would help spark their memories. But mostly he wanted to be around Garak again so he could try and figure out what was going on with this _attraction_. It was a sort of full-immersion method of understanding his feelings that he sometimes used. 

It usually worked.

“How did you get in?”

With a hopeful smile Julian held up a little metal disk with a small rotating handle. Could Garak be wavering? “Hand crank. I replicated it.” He decided to press his luck. “Here, help me close the door back up.”

Julian received a scowl in response and for a moment he thought he was going to be forcibly thrown out on his ear, but Garak sighed and moved to the door. Between the two of them they had it shut and locked again in seconds.

Garak pursed his lips and appeared to come to some sort of decision. “Would you like anything to drink?”

He wondered if there was a word for the conversational equivalent of whiplash. “Uh, no. I’m good. Thank you?”

Garak’s smile was wry. “Just because circumstances are difficult doesn’t mean that one should forget their manners. Care to sit down?” He gestured to the couch.

Julian sat. “That’s an interesting sentiment. Where did you learn it?”

Garak joined him. “My uncle.”

“Oh.” They sat there for a moment in a not completely awkward silence, and Julian realized that there was music playing. “What are you listening to?”

“It’s a song cycle by Nokel. He was a popular folk musician on Cardassia.”

“Was?”

“He died about ten years ago. Well, from my perspective, anyway.”

Julian listened. There was an instrument that sounded sort of like a guitar, only somehow warmer and more resounding; like a big, round tree trying to sing. A rough baritone voice effortlessly spun a melody of short repetitive phrases. If one knew the language it would probably be a relatively easy song to pick up and sing along with. “What is he singing about?”

Casting his eyes upward, Garak attended to the music for a moment. “He’s a solitary traveler crossing the dry plains in the Northern Continent…describing its barren beauty. The arid, cracked ground, the graveyard of petrified trees.” A cascade of plucked notes dropped from the artist’s fingers like a burst of shimmering rain, and a thoughtful smile crossed Garak’s lips. “But a song is so much more than its lyrics.”

Julian nodded in agreement. “A lot of times the lyrics to Terran songs appear to be saying one thing on the surface, but if you are familiar with the artist or you know what to look for you can figure out that they’re really talking about something else.”

That earned him an appraising look. “Like what?”

Julian slouched back into couch with feigned nonchalance, a deliberate counterpoint to how excited he was to be having an actual conversation with Garak. “Well, in the past it was usually things that were considered taboo in polite conversation at the time the song was written. Like sex or illegal substances, or criticisms of religion or government.”

Garak looked scandalized, and some wolfish part of Julian wondered what else he could say – or do -- that would provoke that expression again.

“A good Cardassian artist would never criticize the government,” Garak primly informed him. 

Julian laughed. “There are entire periods of Terran music that practically do nothing but that.” 

Blue eyes gleamed at him. “Well, it’s no wonder then that your people are so backwards! All that dissent must have been counter-productive to the development of your race!”

“What?!” Julian’s heartbeat skipped as if he’d just been slapped across the face. Where in the hell did that come from? Garak might be alone and maybe a little scared and therefore deserving of some leeway, but still -- there was no way he was going to just let that pass. 

He sat up straight and brandished a finger in front of Garak’s nose. “Now just a minute, Garak! Humanity is just as scientifically and culturally advanced as Cardassia. In fact, I’d say that ‘all that dissent’ played a big role in our advancement. Good art challenges us to be better people!” 

Garak leaned in, a strangely dangerous smile on his face. Julian narrowed his eyes. Was it weird that this was sort of turning him on? 

“Oh, I can agree that good art should have an aspirational quality to it,” Garak said in an affable voice that didn’t match his expression at all, “but clearly we part ways on what makes a ‘better person.’ Please, enlighten me. What does such an improvement entail?”

“Well,” Julian replied, wishing he could access the memories of the comparative philosophies class he surely must have taken while he was at the Academy, “you mentioned aspiration. Someone who wishes to be a better person aspires to do what is right, no matter how difficult; to become someone who can stand up for what is good and just, whose foremost goal is to understand and help others.”

Now Garak laughed. “Leaving aside the question of what is ‘right’ – which is a big question, Julian – you are speaking entirely about the elevation of the individual. A Cardassian mustn’t think so selfishly. We are citizens. There is no ‘foremost’ about it. That is simply what we are, all of the time.”

A red-hot flash of annoyance burned Julian’s face. Where did Garak get off calling him selfish? “I don’t think there’s anything selfish about wanting to commit your life to helping others.” 

“Were you called upon to study to be a doctor?”

Julian blinked. “’Called?’ As in, did I feel like it was my calling in life?”

“No,” Garak shook his head impatiently. “Did Starfleet call upon you to train with them? Or were your parents doctors?”

“No. I chose to go into medicine.” 

“Such choices are not so simple on Cardassia. Our life’s vocations are structured by our social order. It assures that every citizen is put to work in service to our world.”

“Oh.” Without really wanting to, Julian thought about his abandoned dreams of becoming a pro tennis player. Becoming a great doctor was a goal that was very important to him now, but he couldn’t help but feel like there had been another part of himself that was quashed by his parents’ expectations. 

“Were you…called to be a tailor?” Julian asked, subdued.

That bewildered look from earlier crossed Garak’s face. “I…must have been. My father is a gardener, I had assumed I would apprentice to him.” Garak looked down. “I don’t understand what happened.”

Julian grimaced sympathetically. Garak’s frightened suspicion suddenly made a lot more sense. If Julian had been with a girl, this would have been the moment where he would drape a comforting arm over her shoulders. But as it was, he really wasn’t sure if a male Cardassian would welcome that. 

So he settled for scooting closer to Garak, their knees nearly touching. “You must have a million questions about why you’re here on this station.” 

Garak was silent. Julian studied the texture of the ridges curving around his eyes, wondering if the scales were as leathery as they appeared. “I wonder if this is what we do,” he pondered aloud, smiling when Garak raised a questioning face. “You know, argue about stuff. Music and art and life.”

To his utter astonishment, Garak quickly glanced away. 

It was a gesture that set Julian’s pulse racing again, only this time with hopeful anticipation. He might not understand much about Cardassians, but surely some reactions translated across races well enough.

Garak’s hand was resting between them. He inched his own hand close and experimentally brushed his fingertips over Garak’s knuckles. Shivery tingles ran up and down his arm and Garak breathed in sharply. 

Oh yes, definitely something here. 

Emboldened, Julian covered Garak’s hand with his and lightly squeezed. Blue eyes rose, scrutinizing his face, and he fervently hoped that whatever test he was being subject to in Garak’s mind would end with his being found worthy. Hardly daring to move, he watched in wonder as Garak slowly lifted their hands and pressed their palms together, holding the gesture for a moment before interlacing their fingers. 

Julian thrilled to the touch, his breath quickening and hitching in his chest, a strange dark arousal curling low in his belly. “You feel it too, don’t you?” he whispered.

Garak nodded slowly. 

Finally, something they agreed on. “There’s got to be something going on between us,” Julian declared, absolutely convicted that he and Garak had just uncovered something true. 

“We can’t know that for certain,” Garak said blankly. “Perhaps we have other attachments on the station. You could have a spouse. Children.”

“I don’t. And neither do you. I was able to get that much out of Ensign Rata on the way over here.”

Julian fought down jitters as Garak seemed to think about this. 

“There’s so much they didn’t say. They could have been lying about us.” 

“I don’t know that they would _lie_ , exactly-- ”

Blue eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Please.”

“--but maybe they exaggerated. That is, in reverse. ‘Good friends’ could be a euphemism. Or maybe they really have no idea -- maybe we’re seeing each other in secret.”

A pause as they both studied their clasped hands. “Odo said that you were my first friend on the station,” Garak ventured.

Julian leaned in. “Yes?” 

He really was genuinely curious where Garak’s thoughts were going, but right at the moment he was very, very distracted by the sight of Garak’s pink tongue as it darted out to moisten grey lips. 

On impulse he raised his other hand to touch that scaled jaw, tracing the wetness on Garak’s lower lip with the pad of his thumb. 

The scales weren’t as rough as they looked. 

Another little flick of that pink tongue and Julian was lost. Going for broke, he leaned in the rest of the way and pressed his lips to Garak’s in a soft, questioning kiss. 

Garak responded warmly, tilting his head and intensifying the pressure and Julian was amazed and exhilarated by how good and how _right_ it felt. It had all the delirious spark of a first kiss but all the fine-tuning of kisses traded by longtime lovers, and within the span of a few minutes their kisses and touches escalated from probing, gentle warmth to needy heat. 

All in all, it was just about the most intense make-out session of his life, and the fact that it was with a male Cardassian that he hardly knew didn’t matter a bit when the feelings and sensations were so powerful and so good, and he let himself be swept up in the thrill of strong hands and cool lips and the rising heat between them. 

Arms and legs tangled and untangled as they eagerly pressed closer together, all prior hesitation and finesse melting away in the crush. 

They were practically on each other’s laps when Julian broke their kiss with a little groan, blood pounding in his veins and his rock-hard erection demanding some attention. If this kept up, his arousal was going to reach the point of no return very, very soon. 

“Garak,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the scales on Garak’s jaw, up his ear, savoring the little panting breaths he received in response.

“Elim.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Elim.”

“Elim,” Julian repeated. He tried it again -- “Elim…” -- and decided that he enjoyed the little brush of the tongue on the second syllable. “Hmm…like liquid on the tongue. Elim.” 

Garak scoffed at him and rolled his eyes – fine, maybe he’d laid it on a little thick for this clever Cardassian -- but Julian found himself rewarded with a particularly passionate kiss anyway, and he took the opportunity to slip his hands under Garak’s tunic and smooth his hands all over Garak’s back and sides, mapping the strange contrast of sleek, cool skin and warm, textured scale. He pulled back and grasped the hem, sparing a quick enquiring glance that received an eager nod in response, and tugged the tunic over Garak’s head. 

Julian toed off their shoes and stripped his own tunic away, and, having no other real immediate or conscious goal other than more contact with more skin he immediately moved back in for more kisses, pressing Garak down into the cushions and settling on top of him.

Scales dug into Julian’s chest, sort of pinching and caressing him at the same time, and he quickly noticed that the ridges weren’t the only part of Garak that was digging into him. Good to know they were on the same page. Shifting, Julian pressed down and rocked forward, grinding their hips together, pulling a startled, strangled moan from Garak’s throat that sounded so unbelievably hot that he did it again, and then again, sliding their erections side by side in a steady rhythm against the more unsteady thrusting of Garak’s hips, swallowing Garak’s moans in deep, open-mouthed kisses. 

It was great, but the friction from their half-clothed grinding started to make Julian feel a little raw. Fortunately that was something easily fixed by less clothes and more skin. He stilled his hips and kissed away Garak’s whimpered protests, rolling off of him and onto his side. “Here, lie on your side like this…” 

He pressed Garak into the back cushion and stretched out his arm so that Garak’s head pillowed on his bicep. Feeling a little too precariously balanced on the edge of the couch, he wrapped an arm around Garak’s firm waist, wriggling close and pulling their hips close together. 

Garak placed a hand on the side of his face and pressed in for more kisses as Julian fumbled with the zipper to his trousers, pushing the fabric aside and pulling out his cock, hissing as his fingers made contact with the sensitive, engorged flesh.

Garak pulled back from the kiss, casting a wide-eyed glance down at Julian’s exposed length. 

“Here,” Julian urged hoarsely, “you too.”

Garak hesitated and Julian just barely stamped down on the urge to reach down and do it for him, waiting until Garak’s hand moved to the zipper before he started to help him. Soon Garak’s hardness was exposed -- grey like the rest of him, and were those little scaled ridges running along the underside? And – 

“It’s wet!” Julian exclaimed, surprised.

“Of course. You don’t lubricate naturally?”

“Well, a little bit, but not really enough to jerk off with. That must be really convenient.” 

An astonished laugh burst from Garak’s lips. “I suppose so. I hope I haven’t made you too envious.”

“Oh god, every last Human male my age would be so envious if they knew. Here, may I?” Julian palmed both their cocks and pressed them together – pulling a deep, ragged gasp from Garak that Julian could really do with hearing more of – and gathered the warm, viscous wetness from the other boy’s length, swirling it over his own. Using gentle finger strokes he made sure he was fully coated before experimentally gliding his entire hand up and down his slicked cock. His hips bucked in approval. 

“Yeah, that definitely works,” Julian sighed, making long, smooth strokes. “Oh, you are so lucky.”

Lost in the sensation as he happily relieved his body’s demand for touch, it took him more than a few moments to realize that Elim was just lying there staring at him. 

It was a little unnerving, but maybe Cardassians got off on watching? That had some kinky possibilities, but right now Julian preferred that this be a team effort. “Come on,” he breathed encouragingly. “I want to see you touch yourself too.”

Garak regarded him with hooded eyes and an expression way too difficult for Julian to read while he had his cock in his hand. But Garak finally reached down, gently running grey fingers up and down his grey erection before grasping it firmly, matching the rhythm of Julian’s pace with a low hissing moan. 

Blue eyes met his, and Julian felt his entire focus narrow to those serious blue eyes going soft and hazy, their wordless shared pleasure, the sounds of slick moving hands and thready, panting breaths.

Julian felt his balls tighten and his cock start to fill with his release, and with a lot of willpower he stopped his hand and laid it over Garak’s, stilling him as well. Never in his life more grateful for his long fingers, he wrapped his hand around both of them, gripping hard near the base, moving up and down with short, tight strokes. 

Garak groaned breathily, grey hand flailing uncertainty before taking Julian’s hip in a powerful grasp. Fingers dug into his skin and for a moment Julian was nearly overwhelmed by a wave of heady power – to think that this strong, stubborn companion of his was just accepting what he was giving, following his lead… 

But he was aching to feel Garak’s hand on him too. “Hey,” Julian whispered. “I could use a little help here…”

Garak released him – oh, he would definitely have bruises there later – and wrapped his grey hand just above his. Their hips thrust together in response to the shared rhythm of their strokes, and Julian’s hand started to move a little jerkily as the beginnings of his release tingled through him. The caress of Garak’s palm over the soft head of his cock was incredible, and only a few more moments of working in tandem brought him to the edge. 

“I’m so close…” Julian gasped.

There was a little gasping “Oh!” in response as the other boy stiffened and came with a little cry, and Julian followed him right over the edge, echoing Garak with a shout of his own, his body convulsing with bursts of pleasure, his cock pulsing out his own hot semen to mingle with Garak’s release, messily coating their hands. 

Sweaty and unglued, pressure and tension relieved, Julian lay still as he slowly drifted down from his high. When he opened his eyes, he saw Garak just watching him like he didn’t know what to do next. 

Julian grinned and leaned in for a kiss that Garak happily met, and he sighed at the sweet warmth that stirred in his belly when the Cardassian pressed their foreheads together. 

They laid there in contented silence for a few more minutes until Julian’s arm started to fall asleep and the stickiness on his hand got too uncomfortable. “Um…shower?”

Garak hummed. “That sounds good.”

Julian edged off the couch and stretched, wiping his hand on his hopelessly mussed trousers before stripping them off completely and then shedding his socks and underwear as he led the way to the bathroom. Garak’s gaze fell like a heavy weight on his back and he indulged in a brief moment’s insecurity for his skinny legs – baby giraffe’s legs, a girlfriend had once called them, he’d never really gotten over that – but since he’d spent the entire walk to their quarters checking out Garak’s ass he supposed it was only fair to let him have an eyeful in return.

Once inside the glass shower stall Julian changed the settings from sonic to tap, and they argued a bit over how hot the water should be. The matter was quickly settled when their mutual interest in exploring each other’s bodies overrode their interest in the temperature. 

Garak seemed perplexed by Julian’s nipples and nearly alarmed that Human testicles were on the outside of their bodies – once again Julian was struck with a bit of envy over clever Cardassian design – but Garak’s thorough caresses to those aforementioned regions offered more than sufficient consolation. For Julian’s part, he discovered that biting down on neck ridges and that teardrop-shaped scale in the center of Garak’s chest generated quite an impressive reaction indeed. 

Their lips met and moved together in long, passionate kisses, and their slickened bodies slid together, the sensation of skin gliding against wet scale so maddeningly exotic that for a moment he fancied himself a shipwrecked seafarer, ensnared in the arms of a selkie or a merman or some other elusive water creature. By the way Garak kept sliding his hands all over and crushing him close, Julian figured that his relatively smooth and unadorned body must feel just as exotic as well. 

Julian’s renewed arousal was mounting quickly, and he was more than ready for a second round – only this time, he was daring to hope for more. Trying to act casual despite his jumpy eagerness, he stroked a lazy down Garak’s spinal ridge, following the scales down to the curve of his ass, questioningly brushing his fingers into the cleft. 

Garak arched his hips into Julian’s with a gasp. 

Water beat down on Julian’s neck as he dipped his head to murmur into the spiral of Garak’s ear. “Have you ever…?” he asked, caressing obscenely with his fingers to make his intent clear.

A little shiver. “Have you?”

Julian drew back and flashed a grin. “Yeah. Well, not with another guy. But there’s this girl I’ve been sort of seeing - she loves it this way, and a couple of times she’s used a dildo on me and…” 

His words stumbled to an embarrassed halt when Garak looked away. 

_Dammit_. Why was it every time he wanted to come across confident he just ended up sounding like an ass? Feeling like a first-class jerk, he stopped his caresses and ran his hands soothingly over Garak’s tensed back and shoulders. 

“Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s not that,” Garak said with an odd little laugh.

“What is it?”

Garak still refused to look at him. 

At first he worried that maybe he’d stepped on some Cardassian taboo, but then as Julian quickly analyzed the details of their encounter so far it occurred to him with a shock that maybe the issue was unexpectedly more universal. All those little hesitations back on the couch, the brief uncertain glances, those long stares, they all started to click together to form a very unexpected picture. 

“Elim, are you…uh…is this,” _oh for fuck’s sake just pick one,_ “have you…ever been with anyone before? Uh, that you know of, anyway?”

Garak straightened and met his gaze squarely, his expression blank but something in his eyes faintly defiant. “No, I haven't.” 

“Oh.” 

Julian wasn’t exactly shocked by Garak’s revelation, not really. There were tons of people his age who had never had sex before. And maybe things were different for Cardassians. Besides, Julian knew that he was a little ahead of the curve on this anyway, since he’d first started having sex as part of a rebellious phase that followed soon after finding out the truth about his genetic enhancements. 

But what _was_ surprising to Julian was how well Garak had faked his way through so far. Honestly, he was a little impressed. His own first time had been with a girl who had some experience but their fumbling around had been spectacularly awkward. It came out more or less okay in the end, but they’d never slept together again, and he didn’t want that for him and Garak.

He had no idea of what to say that wouldn’t be an embarrassing cliché ( _I’ll be gentle!_ ) or just flat out insulting ( _You’re doing really well!_ ), so he settled on something simple, pulling Garak close for a long, sweet kiss, hoping it would convey all the warmth and caring and desire that Garak’s admission had stirred in him. 

They just kissed for a long, long time, letting the hot water massage their shoulders and skim over their bellies, and when they broke off Julian stroked Garak’s cheek and smiled, and was gifted with a smile in return. 

Garak’s hand came up and around the nape of Julian’s neck, tilting his head down just a bit so Garak could press their foreheads together. “That thing you were talking about…” 

Heart leaping but hardly daring to hope, Julian smoothed a hand back down the center ridge on Garak’s back, brushing his fingers once again into the curve of his ass. “This?”

Another shiver as before. “…do you want to?”

 _Oh god,_ do _I?_ “Do you?”

Garak lifted his head, and Julian was struck by how much there was to read in those bright eyes: a gleam of curiosity, an edge of determination, and -- more than anything else -- pure, unabashed want. 

_Oh god!_ Trembling with excitement, Julian pressed a hasty kiss to startled grey lips. “Hold on!” Another kiss. “Stay right there!” And another. “I’ll be right back!” He dashed out of the shower and dialed up a jar of lube at the replicator, bouncing impatiently as it materialized, and ran back to the bathroom. 

He was stopped short at the sight of Garak, calm face upturned into the spray, water sluicing down the curve of his back, his erection proudly jutting up from his body. _For me_ , and Julian's stomach knotted up as he was suddenly stricken by the responsibility he was taking on.

Taking a slow breath to steady his jumpy nerves, Julian stepped back into the shower and opened the jar of lube, setting it on a little shelf beside the showerhead.

“What’s that?”

“Self-warming lube,” Julian replied, dipping in his fingers and feeling it react to his touch. Catching Garak’s uncertain glance down at his erection, he smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We’re going to start easy.” He gently turned Garak to face the tiles, pressing soothing little kisses to the back of Garak’s neck. “First I have to get you warmed up with my fingers. You might want to brace your hands on the wall there, yes, that’s it. And spread your legs just a bit. There.” Swallowing hard, Julian started up his caresses again, applying a bite to a little sweet spot on those neck ridges that made Garak quiver and groan. “In just a minute you’ll be feeling really good, and in practically no time at all I’ll have you begging me for my cock.” 

Garak threw a little glare over his shoulder. “You’re very confident. But I’ll have you know that I don’t beg for anything.”

Those little knots of anxiety in Julian’s stomach immediately started to unravel. “Oho! A challenge!” Julian grinned and pressed close enough to feel Garak’s breath on his mouth, watching blue eyes darken with arousal. “Well, we’ll see who’s confident, won’t we?”

His probing finger found that little ring of muscle, and with a little circular motion he gently slipped it inside, kissing Garak’s shoulder as he slid in up to the knuckle. It was as hot and tight as he expected, but there was something unexpected about the texture that he had to stop and process, and he very nearly came on the spot when he realized what it was. 

“Oh my god, Elim…are you ridged in there, too?” Julian crooked the tip of his finger a bit, brushing against pebble-like flesh, and Garak gave a groan so heartfelt that it made him pause. “Are...are you okay?” 

Garak’s face was an erotic masterpiece of faraway, unfocused pleasure – eyes tightly closed, jaw slack, panting through parted lips. “Yes. Oh yes.” 

Julian started to have serious doubts about whether he was going to make it all the way through this step. Groaning sympathetically, he pressed in a second finger and started up a slow fucking rhythm. Now he could feel those inner ridges stroking and gripping him and he started panting with anticipation. How amazing was it going to feel when he slid his cock inside?

Soon Garak was moaning and pushing back against his hand, and Julian realized with just a tiny bit of shame that he had unconsciously plastered himself against Garak’s body and trapped his aching erection in a little ravine between scale and skin on Garak’s hip so he could rub against Garak in time with the movement of his fingers. 

Julian’s heart was pounding so loudly that he very nearly missed it when the most thrilling invitation of his life was finally whispered to him. 

“Let’s go to the bed…”

Stumbling out of the shower on unsteady legs, Julian followed Garak to the bed but then had to lurch back to the shower to snag the jar of lube. 

When he returned, Garak was stretched out on his back, muscles quivering, his erection flagging. 

His heart sank. “Are you nervous?” Julian asked.

Garak rolled his eyes impatiently. “No! And before you embarrass both of us with any more misguided sympathy – I’m just cold!” 

Not sure how much of that was true and how much was bravado, Julian just smiled sheepishly and moved to kneel between Garak’s legs. “Well, let’s take care of that then, shall we? Scoot up a bit.” As Garak obeyed, Julian briefly contemplated his task. He’d never actually done anything with another guy beyond making out and jerking off, but surely blowjobs weren’t that complicated. 

He leaned down and ran his tongue up the little ridged seam on Garak’s cock, testing the surprisingly tasteless natural wetness before dipping his head to take it all in, holding down Garak’s eager hips as he sucked. Ecstatic cries faded to whimpers when Julian released Garak’s renewed erection with a little smack of his lips. 

Julian’s self-satisfied smirk quickly faded as he surveyed his prize: Garak was gloriously erect, hands clenched into the blankets, thighs trembling, little droplets of water running cooling trails over skin and into scaled crevasses. 

Julian swallowed hard. “You should turn over…”

“Why?”

“Face to face is sort of…advanced…”

Garak scowled. “You would deprive me of the joy of watching you? I think not!” 

Garak’s expression brooked no opposition. 

Julian sighed dramatically, but he was smiling. “Hand me that pillow, would you?” 

He tucked it under Garak’s hips before coating his erection with eagerly trembling hands and far more lube than was really necessary. Gripping Garak’s canted hips, he shifted so that the tip of his cock was snubbed up against the entrance to Garak’s body and paused – seeking and receiving eager consent from blazing blue eyes. 

Slowly pressing inside, Julian barely bit back a keening moan as his self-control was almost instantly shredded to pieces by the tight muscle taking in his cock, gripping him and urging him deeper, all those hot little ridges nearly undoing him as they massaged him all the way down until he was balls-deep inside and nearly sobbing with pleasure. 

“Fuck…” he rasped, “oh, you feel so fucking good.” Barely holding on to the tattered edges of his sanity, he started to move, praying he had enough willpower to keep from slamming back in -- 

“Wait.”

Snapping his eyes open, he saw that Garak had a look of intense concentration on his face. 

Somehow Julian found enough intelligence to speak. “Am I hurting you?”

“No…I just need a moment…”

Waiting was the most exquisite torture. Unable to look at the body spread before him without losing it, Julian closed his eyes and concentrated on being still, on resisting imperative commands from every last inch of his body to just _move,_ the seconds stretching like hours as his cock strained and twitched, his fevered mind trying to focus on the cool rivulets of water dripping from his hair and running down his skin, his lips silently forming the words of the desperate mantra pounding in his blood: _please…Elim, please…_

“Julian.”

Aching with his effort, he opened his eyes again. This time Garak’s face was nearly serene as he gifted him with that blessed word of permission: “Please.”

Pure relief washed through him, and he unclenched his muscles and drew his hips away, thrusting back in with a long, smooth stroke that had both of them groaning. All his body wanted to do was collapse over Garak and pound him right through the mattress, but he held back, moving in and out with agonizing, deliberate slowness, wanting to draw this out as long as he could, really wanting this to be good for Garak, too. 

But getting the hang of the rhythm was awkward – Garak’s enthusiastic but unskilled participation threw Julian off balance from his cautious pacing, and his guiding grip on Garak’s hips was faltering. 

When Garak’s hips slipped off the pillow for the third time, Julian was just about to reluctantly suggest a change in position when Garak lifted his head and snarled at him. “I’m not going to _break,_ Julian. _Get on with it!_ ” 

Julian rocked back, shocked, but it didn’t take long for him to take in the intent in Garak’s words and heated expression and blazing eyes. A wild, primal grin spread across his face as he jubilantly took the go-ahead, hitched Garak’s legs up to anchor about his waist, and started fucking in earnest. 

The tightness of that ridged hole was incredible -- _his first, I’m his first!_ \-- and Julian gloried in the movement of alien skin against his skin, of strong hands clasping roughly at his body, of their gasps and grunts and groans entwining in counterpoint with the forgotten music that was still playing. Julian was wound up tight and coiling even tighter when Garak’s hand moved between their flexing bodies to wrap around his erection, and Julian belatedly realized that he should be helping but he was so lost, his body ready to burst. 

“Elim, I’m going to…” he whimpered, apologetic, wanting to hold out longer but hopelessly overwhelmed -- the pleasure ecstatically and forcefully physical with an unexpected edge to it, that connection between them intense in a way he had never experienced with any other. Julian shouted with his release, pouring himself out deep inside Garak’s body; and almost as if something inside Garak had been triggered by Julian’ come, Garak followed him into an equally powerful climax, throwing his head back with a shout, his back arching off the bed.

Julian toppled over and sprawled out, sweaty, panting, boneless. He felt like a supernova had exploded in his body and melted his brain into a pile of useless goo. 

“Oh, that was good. No, wait. That was brilliant.” He knew he was babbling, but he didn’t care. “No, no. More than brilliant. It was fucking amazing.” 

“So.” Julian could hear the smirk in Garak’s voice. “ _Who_ was confident?” 

Julian chuckled. Was sex always a competition with Garak? He could get used to that. 

They laid in contented silence for a while.

Garak’s voice cut through his sated haze. “We should clean up.”

“Yeah,” Julian drew himself up onto an elbow and looked down. “Especially you. You’re a mess,” he teased, running his hand possessively over a ridged hip. “Your come all over your stomach, my come dripping out of you…”

There was a rueful twist to Garak’s lips but a wicked sparkle in his eyes. “I must be a sight.”

“You look thoroughly debauched, defrocked, and deflowered,” Julian gleefully pronounced, bestowing a kiss to the corner of Garak’s lips. “And really fucking hot. If I could get it back up I’d fuck you again right now.” He flopped onto his back with a long contended groan and flung an arm over his eyes. “Oh, but there’s no hope of that. You’ve milked me dry.”

“What a colorful phrase. Tell me, have you used that one on your girlfriends before?” 

He grinned at the prim distaste in Garak’s tone. “Nope. Just you.” Body going limp again, Julian flirted with the edge of sleepy oblivion. 

A sharp poke to his ribs brought him back. “We need to clean up and get dressed.”

“Elim…” he groaned.

“What if someone comes looking for us?”

He had a point. “Oh, alright.”

They used the sonic shower this time, both too drowsy to do more than trade soft kisses and gently help each other wash. Afterward they scrounged their clothes up off the floor, recycling and re-replicating their trousers while Garak carefully tidied up, turning off the music, setting the couch and bed to rights, recycling the jar of lube and erasing everything from the replicator queue. 

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Julian asked as they dressed, amused by Garak’s diligence. Garak just smirked at him again.

Tracks sufficiently covered, they sleepily dropped back onto the bed facing each other. It was a little strange to be lying together fully clothed after such an explosive round of sex, but there was something sort of sweetly naughty about it too. Julian briefly considered teasing Garak for almost throwing him out earlier, but he didn’t want to break the quiet, comfortable mood that had settled over them both. 

Just as Julian was starting to doze off, Garak took his hand and touched it to his cool lips. 

The gesture nearly melted Julian’s heart. 

“Elim…” he mumbled, eyes drooping, “I think I could fall in love with you.”

He felt Garak freeze, and Julian’s own breath went cold in his chest when his brain belatedly processed the words that had fallen from his sleepy, unguarded mouth. 

There was a pause. 

“Have you used that one on your girlfriends before?” 

It was asked flippantly, but Julian knew that it was crucial to answer this question well. 

He opened his eyes. “No. Just you.”

Once again Julian found himself on the receiving end of one of those penetrating blue-eyed stares. A long moment passed where neither one of them moved. Finally Garak tugged Julian’s hand up to press against his heart with a gravitas that baffled Julian. 

“Maybe you’re why I’m here,” Garak said contentedly, closing his eyes with a smiling sigh. 

Shrugging uncertainly but unable to keep from smiling himself, Julian smoothed his cheek against the pillow and let himself drift off, strangely comforted by the strong Cardassian heartbeat under his palm. 

…..........................

It was some hours before they were roused again. Neither one of them heard the door chime, and when Odo overrode the door lock he found the two of them deeply asleep, limp as a pair of tired puppies, their hands still clasped.


	4. One day I feel so happy, the next I feel so sad

Julian Bashir opened his eyes. He swayed on his feet a bit when the grip of the transporter beam faded away and the bright lights of the infirmary overwhelmed his vision. Head throbbing painfully, he had to shut his eyes to regroup. A faint sense of unease scuttled across his shoulders as the events of the past day came rushing back to him.

_A coded Cardassian distress signal just inside the wormhole – investigating in a runabout with Garak – energy surge pushing us off course – bright lights like an explosion in my head – transported out – blackness –_

_-waking up a scared teenager – with Garak – sneaking out to Garak’s room - taking Garak’s virginity – wait, what…_

_\- oh my GOD! -_

He whipped his head to the left. Garak was standing beside him, a faintly horrified expression on his face.

_\- I told him that I love him - oh god_

Julian watched numbly as Garak withdrew behind a cold mask, instantly reverting to his most distant and formal persona.

“Well, Captain” Garak said with a well-mannered nod of the head to Sisko, who wore the cautiously pained expression of a man treading over eggshells or hot coals, “I must say, it is good to be back to normal. It seems that once again I owe a debt of gratitude to Chief O’Brien and Commander Dax for their diligence and skill.”

The dry twist of Sisko’s lips was not quite a smile. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to hear that.” 

“I will make certain to tell them at my earliest opportunity.” 

Julian marveled that Garak was perfectly still, not a single muscle betraying any impulse to flee the room. He hoped that his own face looked like that. 

“Doctor, how do you feel?”

Sisko’s perfectly innocuous question twisted into his gut like a serrated blade. “Normal,” he croaked. 

_Terrible is more like it. Because things can never be normal again, can they? Because we crossed the line. Because now I know how he feels about me. And now he knows._

The next several minutes were a blur – a battery of tests and questions from Pham and her assistants, Sisko presiding over it all with an unasked question in his eyes. Julian realized it would probably be good form to apologize to the Captain later for his teenage self’s disobedience. He just hoped that Sisko would have the good grace to not ask his question when he did. 

When they were given a clean bill of health, Garak politely excused himself and swept from the room, having never once met Julian’s eyes.

Julian retreated to his office and started catching up on work, setting himself into a familiar routine before the numbness could fade into a cold chill. He knew full well that if it were left up to Garak, they would probably never talk about what had happened. So it was up to him to seek Garak out. But right now he really needed some time to think.


	5. I guess I'll learn to take the good with the bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter there is a very, very small and brief allusion to a memory of a sexual encounter of dubious consent (not between the main characters).

Garak slipped through the door to his quarters with a heavy sigh and went straight to the replicator with the intention of ordering a cup of red leaf tea, but he was surprised to hear an order for rokassa juice falling from his lips instead. He took a sip and rolled the liquid in his mouth, but to his disappointment he was unable to reproduce that vaguely resistant reaction his eighteen-year-old tongue had had to the replicated juice. It had simply been too long; he had really been away from Cardassia too long to be able to tell the difference. 

He recycled the juice and dialed up the tea instead.

Next he checked his messages. Nothing of immediate interest aside from a frantic message from Quark -- apparently Odo had volunteered Garak to help Quark upgrade the security on the bar’s message board. Feeling faintly foolish, he graciously replied that he would be pleased to assist a fellow entrepreneur and suggested a meeting tomorrow afternoon. 

He absently opened the station’s music library and hovered uncertainly over the collection of Nokel’s songs. Until yesterday, he hadn’t listened to Nokel in nearly a decade. A click of a button and the sound of the plucked _kitareth_ poured from above like a sprinkling of rain -- rain which had not fallen on those high desert plains in the Northern Continent for generations, for which Nokel had subtly blamed the government and had, in turn, been quietly killed by the Order, under Tain’s directive. 

He’d uncovered that bit of truth many years into his career and had, at first, been shocked. Nokel’s music had still been popular on Cardassia – how was it that the work of a man accused of sedition continued to circulate? But then he’d realized that Nokel’s music had become so culturally entrenched that the government had been afraid to bring him to trial, deeming it easier to simply end his career and let his music forever be perceived as harmless. And so when Tain’s operatives silenced Nokel, they also deprived him of the opportunity to become a sainted martyr.

But nevertheless there had been those who could see the layers beyond what others perceived. When he was a boy, Tolan had played him these songs and they’d talked about the traveler and the rain, the nationalist portrait painted in lyric and sound, and when he asked why the rains had stopped, Tolan – still “Father,” then – had looked at him oddly and said that sometimes people overreach themselves. And then he’d shut off the music and admonished him to never play Nokel around “Uncle” Enabran. 

Garak had lived a life that had turned him into a man who could unflinchingly face a myriad of horrors. Or perpetrate them. As a rule, he really didn’t cringe from much of anything. But as he sifted through events from the past twenty-four hours, he found himself squirming with shame at his frankly astonishing display of unsophistication. That he’d been so vulnerable with someone he hardly knew, all on an unconfirmed feeling. That he’d believed, with a stunning naiveté that he likely would have found charming on any other young man, in an uncomplicated romantic attachment with a Human. That he’d been able to trust so quickly and earnestly, and that he’d permitted himself to be taken and pleasured by a roguish young Julian. 

Excellent memory notwithstanding, Garak was still astonished that he had, apparently, once been so simple. 

Cardassia was a demanding master, and for his world he’d given his all – his existence, his freedom, his innocence. That last one he hadn't held onto for very long after starting his training, and part of him still sincerely doubted whether it was even possible to be born innocent as a son of Tain. 

Garak rose and took his tea to the window, sipping the bitter liquid and letting the heat chase down his throat. It brought little comfort, did little to stem the aching cold from old memories and the burning fire of his convictions as they clashed and became mystified by the warm memory of his night with Julian. 

Young or old, Julian never really seemed to truly grasp what it meant to be Cardassian. Why Garak had done the things he had done. How he was not an individual, not in the way Humans understood, but a dutiful body of the State. How, for the State, he gave of himself willingly. 

And how he would never, ever admit that, despite his joy in his duty, there were some things he would not have chosen for himself. 

But now, memories of Julian’s sweet guidance were there to smooth over old ones, of a night spent in duty pretending he knew exactly what he was doing; his genuine pleasure shared with the young Human shading over the false pleasure he’d shown another man. 

Last night hadn’t erased his past. But to his growing surprise and contentment, Garak realized that he didn’t find the contradicting memories painful. It was as if some old weathered and splintered edge had finally been sanded down and restored.

Perhaps he’d acted a fool last night, but nevertheless, being with Julian had given him an unexpected gift. 

Garak was perched at his window, considering the pattern of stars and waiting for the station to finish its evening rotation and return to his view that one little pinpoint of light that mattered to him most when his door chimed. 

There was, of course, no doubt who it was, but he asked anyway.

A muted reply came over the intercom. “Garak, it’s me. Please let me in.”

Julian’s gentle voice broke down the vaunted order of his Cardassian mind with humiliating thoroughness. His thoughts buzzed uselessly as he set down his tea and smoothed down his tunic, the grey noise in his head intensifying as his feet carried him to the door, fading to numb blankness as the door swished open and Julian stepped in, looking determined but contrite, worried but hopeful.

There were so many reasons why this was a bad idea. Garak could recount and enumerate them with frightening ease, for he’d been doing so almost daily for a few years now.

They stood staring at each other for quite a while. Garak hardly recognized his own voice when he opened his mouth and croaked: “Julian.” 

The smile he received in response warmed him more deeply and thoroughly than the highest equinox rays of the Cardassian sun. 

“Elim.”

A slim brown hand raised, facing him, and he met the invitation, pressing into the warmth with his cool grey palm. Long fingers interlaced with his, and their bodies followed the lead, twining together for a long kiss.

When they broke apart Julian gave him an impish grin. “I was worried I was going to have to break in again.”

“Such a troublemaker, my dear. I knew there was something about you that I liked.”

The look Julian gave him was so relentlessly compassionate that it made his heart ache even as it annoyed him. It was a disquieting feeling, and he put it to an end with another kiss, this one more heated than before, backing Julian up against the door and holding him there until those long limbs started to quiver impatiently.

Their lips came apart, and Garak whispered into Julian’s mouth. “I may no longer be the charmingly naïve young thing you so kindheartedly deflowered, but I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to convince you that experience has its rewards.”

Garak watched Julian’s eyes glaze over with desire, and as he leaned in to claim another kiss he thought that they had been gifted indeed.

End


End file.
